


When Boredom Bites

by horndog5000



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Competitive, Flirting, M/M, Naughtiness, Nerdiness, Spanking, Teasing, boardgame, leads to some dirty shit, playful, wedgie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2019-09-14 20:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horndog5000/pseuds/horndog5000
Summary: Oswald and Edward decide a good old boardgame is the right way to chase away some boredom blues..But will these highly competitive men be able to play fair or will they give into the temptation of messing with one another?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'M A WEDGIE SLUT  
> And this is literally just shameless, self indulgent porn that got way out of hand

The crackling of the burning firewood filled the otherwise silent room; a soft, yellow glow bathing the only inhabitants that lounged together on the large, purple sofa.  
Edward was flicking his beautiful brown eyes over the pages of a thick book; clearly engrossed in the information he was soaking in. Oswald, on the other hand, splayed out on the opposite end of the couch, was merely soaking in two things. The gentle warmth from the fire and the wine glass of bourbon, endlessly circling in his upturned palm.  
Another moment or two went by before the bored bird let out an exasperated sigh and finally arose from his slouched seating position. Edward immediately lay down his novel, sat firmly upright and gazed toward him; "Oswald? Is something the matter?"  
The Penguin let out another dramatic huff of breath before turning to face his friend. He felt a pinprick of guilt at the sight of Ed's concerned frown, but it wasn't exactly enough to quell the infamous Oswald whinging. "I'm bored, Ed! Business is booming; the Underworld is practically running itself. There's been no gang wars, no assassination attempts and no Jim fucking Gordon for almost a month! I'm losing my mind with the lack of stimulation."  
An eager smile broke across Edward's sharp features as he gently turned the hardback over in his hands, glancing from the detailed cover to the impatient Penguin scowl. "I've been reading this book," he finally chuckled; his nerdy awkwardness never truly leaving him, even though he had long since been integrated with his alter, Riddler, "it's quite fascinating. It's all about the inaccuracies and negative biases behind the sources who told us about the ancient Egyptian queen, Cleopatra; and how, despite her looks being heavily documented, she was also highly intelli-"  
"Thank you, Edward, but I haven't been much interested in the affairs of the past, as of late. I'm sure you can imagine why," Oswald interrupted, attempting a politeness to ride the shoulders of such a rude action; however, failing rather miserably, as the riddle-loving psychopath's enthusiastic grin slowly fell. Oswald quickly scrambled to plaster over his mistake, clumsily spluttering out, "b-but! But, uhm.. maybe you're on the right track. Perhaps I do need an outer stimuli to focus my attention on. Would you have any other suggestions, friend?"  
The classic Nygma smile returned, accompanied closely by a glint of the eye, one that Oswald knew, all too well, was his brainstorming glint. Suddenly, the taller man perked up, ascending toward the magnificent bookshelf, adjacent to the roaring fireplace and gracefully pulled a crinkled, yellow box from one of the top shelves. Swapping his feet over one another, the theatrical dork slowly spun around; mouth open wide and beat-up cardboard clutched against his chest. Oswald let out a half-amused scoff as Ed playfully jiggled his prize, the sound of wooden blocks clinking together inside.  
"Jenga?"  
The bird was met with an excited nod.  
"Really?"  
Edward pouted, placing the old boardgame box on the coffee table before swatting gently at Oswald's knee, "yes, really. Jenga is a wonderfully, amusing game. It's strategy and physics based. Mentally stimulating. Fun and engaging for all ages! You'll love it!"  
Oswald couldn't fight the amused smirk that tagged alongside his quirked eyebrow, "did you just call me a child? And really, Ed, must we? What fun can be had with a few chunks of trees?"  
The taller man didn't even look up; having, both, anticipated the argument and decided that, whether Oswald liked it or not, they were playing some god damn Jenga; especially since the ex-forensic scientist already had two thirds of the block tower built.  
"Many a fun, my feathered friend. It's just a shame you can't see that passed your fear." He knew he had him.  
"Fear?" The Penguin guffawed, "you think I'm afraid of a silly little boardgame?"  
Ed tried to hide the giggle threatening to burst, from his thinly pressed lips, behind a well-timed drop of a block, "of course you are. Why else would you not want to try your hand at winning? Succeeding? Vanquishing? Being the best? Being.. on top?" He was just too fucking easy. Not that Edward ever grew tired of playing all of the Penguin's pretty strings and making him sing. But sometimes he was just way too fucking predictable.  
Not a half second after the last syllable had flowed from his lips, was the wineglass aggressively slammed onto the couch side table and Oswald was begrudgingly hovering off the edge of his seat.  
Edward beamed, a pleasantly joyous smile dancing on the apples of his cheeks as he began experiencing his first boardgame with a friend. He wispily flicked a deliberately placed, easy block onto his awaiting palm and confidently popped it on the roof of the tower before seating himself on his end of the couch once again.  
"Your turn Oswald!" he exclaimed, gesturing with a flat palm toward the fully erect tower. The tubby tummied bird pulled himself up from his chair, stood at what was clearly the unspoken 'game play spot' and bent over to, rather flippantly, stuff his finger into a hanging block and send it crashing onto the table with a loud smash. Much to Ed's imploding braincells, however, the tower didn't so much as shiver. We all have our strategies and clearly Os' half hazard one was working in his favour, as, after his third turn, he still hadn't shaken the structure once. Ed needed to up his anti if he wanted to win.  
As Oswald raised his finger once more to gracelessly prod out another lose block, Edward sensed his opportunity and picked up the novel laying, pages-splayed, on the black carpet floor. "Hey Oswald?" Ed smirked, leaning his weight back onto one shoulder. The otherwise occupied man stole a glance in his direction. "Think fast!" The book came hurdling toward him, the red cover in the glow of the nearby flames, making it look like a fireball. Oswald quickly stuffed his finger into the block of choice, before whirling around to catch the spiralling story-book, before it collided with his.. little Penguin.  
"Ed!" He exclaimed, the open pages practically tickling him through his trousers, "what the hell?! You nearly castrated me!"  
Edward couldn't help exploding in laughter, eyes full of mirth and glee as he repeated slapped his palms into his lap. Sometimes he truly was an overgrown child. Most days he was Edward Nygma; the ruthless, riddle-loving sociopath with a brain the size of China and the rational abilities of every genius that had ever lived, put together. And other days he was Ed; the man who grew up without a friend in the world and desperately wanted to rekindle some lost youth by acting like a mischievous child. And as much as a danger as the latter was, especially to his poor little Penguin, Oswald would have been lying through his teeth if he had ever said he didn't love goofy, childlike, happy-go-lucky Edward; the Edward he had first met at the GCPD.  
The Penguin shakily placed down the possible penis-severer and put his hands on his hips, fighting back a smile at the joy on his friends face. "Alright, bub, you wanna play dirty? Well, I can play dirty, Ed. I can play very dirty."  
Edward gleefully pushed himself out of the seat with a rather dramatic upward swing of the legs, before prancing into the designated play spot. Continuing the theatrical display with a flip of his suit jacket tail, long legs spread like that of a star and a hand placed leisurely on his forward bending hip. His only audience did his best to quell a bubbling snicker at the plan playing out in his mind.  
While the fancifully dressed leprechaun lookalike took his sweet time in carefully selecting a safe, sturdy block; Oswald tipped back the remains of his wine glass and, as nonchalantly as his limited acting skills could manage, crossed the living room floor in search of his bottle of bourbon.  
Edward paid him no mind, still scanning the structure; unaware of his friend hovering closely behind him, half hazardly pouring himself another round. The Penguin's mind was certainly elsewhere; gaze fixed on that protruding Nygma ass. Those green trousers were clinging impossibly tight to the outline of Ed's bent over bottom; shaping his natural curves and emphasising the delicious dip between his firm cheeks.  
Once the owner of aforementioned booty had strategically chosen a block and begun pressing his long, callous finger into it, Oswald sprang into action. The chubby birdie quickly tossed back a hefty gulp from his glass, depositing it rather erratically onto the couch side table, before rearing back in an almost faux fighting stance and landing a hard smack to Edward's jutted backside.  
The force of the colliding palm knocked a squeak from Edward's thinly pressed lips, causing him to propel forward. The awkward puzzle nerd managed to catch himself on the edge of the coffee table, with his free hand; his other bumping against the brick to the right and causing it to dangle precariously. However, it's sandwiching wedge prevented it from falling. A tuft of brown fringe hair caressed the shivering structure.  
Now it was Ed's turn to look exasperated and Oswald's turn to be the defiantly cheery child.  
When his feet had finally regained a steady stance on the floor beneath him and he had created a decent distance between himself and the tower, Edward finally turned to a sniggering, simpering Oswald.  
"Ow!" he bellowed, mouth open dramatically wide for emphasis, "did you seriously just spank me, Oswald?!"  
The Penguin simply fluttered his long lashes innocently and hid his small hands behind his back, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth; aside from those tell-tale pinched cheeks and his crooked lips fighting back laughter.  
"No," he smirked, coyly, "but if I did.. I would say you make the most precious little squeaks, Edward."  
At such a forefronted memory Oswald broke from his sinless facade and erupted into a series of explosive giggles and hearty chortles; smugly slapping a flat palm against his good knee. Edward's entire face coloured to resemble that of a ripe tomato or a lady's painted lips.  
With a defiant cross of his lengthy arms and a sulky expression adorned upon his face, the taller man fought to regain some of his dwindling dignity. "I did NOT squeak. It was merely an ejaculation of air at a higher rate than average, due to shock from your childish actions," he began, attempting to quench the bird's endless chuckling with factual statements; instead the result was the exact opposite, causing Oswald to teasingly puff out his bottom lip at Ed's mopey face and continue spluttering out indignant snickers. Like an embarrassed child, Edward turned to more emotional protests, "honestly, Oswald, I only tossed a novel in your general direction; I hardly think slapping my bottom is a fair counteract!"  
"Nawww," Oswald cooed, mockingly, "did your spanking hurt too much? Did I turn your ass all red, Edward?"  
Edward let out a flustered splutter; throat almost convulsing in an attempt to reject the humiliating question, "wha- no!"  
A devilish smirk teased up Oswald's lips as he enjoyed the consequences to his teasing; his own 'King of Gotham' ego growing with every falter in his friend's usually cocky veneer.  
Taking a step forward, the hubristic bird invaded his space and smugly connected their eyes, "no? You think you could take harder?"  
Edward visibly gulped, eyes widening a fraction too large at the mayor's unexpected closeness, "yes! No? I mean-"  
"Why Edward, I never knew you were such a little masochist," Oswald purred, relishing in his ability to make his chief of staff fumble like this. As flustered and as nervous as he could be around the taller man, he was still the domineering, room-commanding Penguin; and he still got it, "turn around. I'm sure I can spank harder, if you really want me to."  
Edward's cheeks looked as if they had been doused in gasoline and a match had been struck underneath, "I-I didn't mean-."  
Oswald gently shushed him, not quite finished teasing his one and only friend (and one and only crush- but Edward didn't need to know that this immature game was turning into future jerk-off material for the little bird, who would surely pump his cock to images of that heart-shaped ass, blushing under his administrations, at a later date.)  
Softly caressing the pucker of Edward's lips with the pad of a fingertip, Oswald slowly trailed the digit down his friend's toned chest before looping it around his back and cupping the man's hip.  
"Come on, Eddie," he goaded, shifting his gaze, briefly, to the placement below his palm, "let's make these cheeks.." He removed his grip as fast as he'd planted it there, leaving Edward with a profound sense of loss and dizzy confusion; before it was abruptly replaced by embarrassment and a hint of desire, at the touch of his boss' palm under his chin, lightly squeezing his cherry-glowed cheeks.  
Oswald continued, lips pursed in a mockingly sweet pout, "..match these ones."


	2. Chapter 2

Embarrassment finally consuming him, Edward took a few awkward hops back, hands flying up to clutch at the fabric of his shirt and anxiously ring it into a crinkled knot. What in the hell had that been? Was Oswald flirting with him? Was Oswald attracted to him?! Surely a powerful, cunning man like The Penguin would never have feelings for a self-confused, wannabe villain like Edward, who had only a few fallen-through schemes under his belt and a work-in-progress moniker. Oswald was self-assured and confident and sassy and perplexing and stubborn and.. hot. Edward's smile went dreamily crooked for a half second before his eyes bulged. Oh God, he was hot. He is hot, really really really hot, and beautiful and adorable and breath-taking; and Ed was just realising it now.  
It felt as if the wires in his brain had been crossed and the whole world was suddenly a warping, unfamiliar bubble of bizarities. He was attracted to Oswald!  
"Ed?"  
And Oswald was standing right there.  
The moment that infamous hooked nose pierced his peripheral view, Ed jumped back like he'd been scorched. "Oswald!" he practically screamed, wincing when the smaller man cringed from the explosive noise.  
Oh God, damage control! You look like a lunatic, Ed, get to the damage control!  
"I.."  
The game. Get back to the game!  
"I am gonna beat you so hard!" he exclaimed suddenly, faking his usual confidence by sportsmanshiply jabbing the bird before him, in the breast, with his finger.  
"Oh yeah, you thought it was on before?" Ed babbled, "well it's double on now! Triple on! It's on like a particular ape-like creature from a video game I never got to play as a kid but now frequently enjoy!"  
Raising his knee to his own chest and elbowing an imaginary enemy behind him in the unfortunate imaginary dick, with a tightly clenched fist, Ed whooped, "mmph! Let's go! I'm ready to win!" before racing past his playing partner and into the kitchen.  
Oswald just stood there, utterly confused and.. sort of concerned? But then again, Ed could be peculiar from time to time, so what was the use in even asking about it?  
His flirting freaked him out, so, he disassociated for a bit. That was fair. Maybe a bit harmful to that suddenly shrinking Penguin ego, but fair. He regained awareness and immediately got very competitive again. Ed was an egotistical, stubborn, show-off with a winners complex. (Oswald smiled at the thought, as he wandered absentmindedly around the table.) Yeah, none of this was really any cause for alarm.  
Oswald dipped himself forward, examining the Jenga tower with mild interest before choosing the perfect brick. Bending into a half-assed warrior pose, the mayor raised a chubby, white finger and began aiding in its descent toward a bottom-shelf block. Barely registering the sound of running water, nor the noise it made as it splashed into a cupped pair of palms; the pale digit reached its intended destination and started to push in. Registering with mildly peeked interest the soft shuffle of footsteps entering through the doorway, the raven-haired man allowed a smile to spread across his beautiful face and continued his penetration of the lopsided tower.  
“Sorry for continuing without your riveting company, old friend, but I’m sure you can find it in your heart to forgive me,” he teased, hoping to recapture the light-hearted mood he’d so recklessly spoiled.  
Finger descending further and further into the structure, Oswald swore he heard an odd gulping accompany the approaching footsteps but simply shrugged it off; he was a man on two very important missions after all.  
“Ed.. I do sincerely hope that I did not overstep; and may I say that if I did, then I passionately apologise,” he could tell the block was almost free, “I want you to know that making you uncomfortable was in no way my intentIIION!”  
The descent had been stopped and Oswald.. was suddenly in the air. For a split second, the tuxedoed bird genuinely wondered if he’d started to fly; if not for the sharp, bunching pain he currently had in his hovering ass.  
Levitating a good ten inches off the ground, the mayor swallowed a soaring squeak of pleasure before shakily asking, “Edward.. what, uhm.. what are you doing?”


	3. Chapter 3

What was he doing?!  
When Edward had walked back into the living room, chin and temples still dripping from when he’d splashed cold water up on his face, he had not expected to be presented with a darkly veiled, bubbly mound of flesh; but yet, there Oswald was, bending forward like an alluring slut who was about to take it up the ass. A trim of eggplant purple, peeking out from over his trousers’ waistband, having caught the chief of staff’s wandering eye.  
Edward had been surprised even further when he felt an unexpected magnetism between him and the aforementioned Penguin panties. When he first felt his body move to cross the gap between them, almost entirely independent to his stunned still mind; Edward initially assumed that his autonomous hands were ready to seek revenge for their Southern neighbour’s earlier spanking. But as his body’s positioning came clearer into focus, (standing a few inches behind the bent over Kingpin, much too close to be an advantageous angle,) he then believed, to his own mortified horror, that his hands were going in for a double-palm squeeze. However, what the nerdy giant had expected least of all was for his long fingers to suddenly latch onto those purple Penguin panties, screw their white knuckles around the visible waistband and lift their owner’s newly discovered crush clean off his feet in a wedgie.  
Despite the total and utter humiliation at his deeply rooted desire to, for some reason, shove his boss’ underwear up his ass, Edward couldn’t help the pooling warmth that had accumulated in his stomach as the merciless Underworld Kingpin folded like a deck of cards and whimpered like a whore getting properly played with.  
“Ahh.. Edward,” and from that thinly veiled moan, Ed was beginning to wager that that was exactly what he was.  
Granted the gangly chief of staff’s alternative personality had indeed integrated into Edward’s complete psyche many months prior to this night’s events, however, The Riddler still had a lasting effect on his former head-mate’s impulses, criminality and.. sex drive. The latter having been roused as soon as those adorably astonished moans filled the thick air between them.  
Totally lacking his once staple Nygma inhibitions, Edward tightened the steely grip he had on Oswald’s delicious purple panties and gave a sharp jerk, bouncing the ass in front of him up and down like a toy yoyo and tearing a shuddering gasp from the mayor’s gaping lips.  
“Ahh, Ed!”  
Fuck, his moans were hot.  
Ed could feel the front of his emerald green trousers growing taut as the fabric in his fists snapped and strained, and a smug smirk danced on the reddening apples of his cheeks.  
But then, the moment was over. Riddler’s impulsive, erotic nature slipped away just as fast as it had come to be, leaving Edward’s mind unclouded to the situation he was in. The sight of Oswald, hooded eyelashes fanning those burning red cheeks, bottom lip swollen from futile attempts at biting back moans, folded-up legs kicking like that of a schoolgirl having been asked to prom and dangling by his newly stretched out panties; caused Ed to panic and quickly tear himself away from the scene of his crime, dropping the mayor in the process.  
Christ, none of this evening was going to plan.


	4. Chapter 4

Sweet Jesus, that felt good!  
If someone had told Oswald that playing a juvenile boardgame with one Edward Nygma would have resulted in said seemingly uninterested crush manhandling him like his favourite little toy, the flightless bird would have scaled that bookshelf like a ladder and tore the tattered Jenga box from its hidey-hole months ago. As undignified as kneeling on the floor with a stinging asshole might have been, Oswald was left trembling, his mind constantly circling around the ever present thought of absolutely loving this entire situation; however, such thoughts were not left undisturbed and permitted to wander into the realm of their hidden meanings, as a familiar hand came into his line of sight.  
Taking the hand given to him, Oswald struggled to his feet, once again coming face to face with a cherry complexioned Edward Nygma.  
Ed’s gaze shifted back and forth between his companion’s eyes before falling upon their still conjoined hands. A nervous smile appearing on his face, he tore away that touch too.  
Usually Oswald would have focused his attention back on his dreamy chief of staff immediately. He would have zoned in on his every word; the minutest expression on the taller man’s face being noted and catalogued, dissected and responded to accordingly, (a people-reading habit he’d developed in his mobster years, one he often forgot the impolite, slightly manipulative and unauthentic nature of.) In this moment, however, Oswald’s mind had significantly more pressing matters to consider; one such pressing matter currently pressing against his asshole and perineum quite demandingly. Ah, yes; that. Edward had just fucking wedgied him! Edward had just manhandled his underwear, touched his underwear! He picked him up, with those gorgeous, strong arms of his and made some practically pornographic noises into Oswald’s ears. And Oswald liked it! Hell, he’d loved it! The feeling of tight, rough fabric grinding against his sensitive, tender hole had been indescribable but he’d wager that the moans it tore out of him were description enough. He couldn’t believe it, he was into wedgies. And seemingly, so was Edward.  
Fuck, he had to have more.  
When Oswald’s mind finally stilled its exciting new thoughts, he realised that Ed had been speaking this entire time. Turning to his chief of staff with a wistful, lusting gaze, Oswald hummed his response.  
“I was just saying how dreadfully sorry I am and uhm, I was merely suggesting.. that you.. uhm, take care of your..” Ed trailed off, pointing a shaky finger in the general direction of Oswald’s backside and refusing to look him in the eyes.  
Oswald furrowed his brow and bent his neck to get a better look behind himself; a coral blush making its way up his face as he clocked eyes with his stretched out panties, hanging several inches down past his ass, the fabric bunching in the middle from where Ed’s fingers had dug into them and the waistband’s lace bouncing off in different directions like loose hairs on a doll’s head.  
“Oh.” He looked down at the floor and started to gather the ruined fabric into his palms.  
Several moments had passed by the time anyone dared to speak and, surprisingly enough, it was Ed who took the first step. “I..” he began. He still hadn’t looked up, finding comfort in the pattern of the carpet and his green shoelaces. “I am so very sorry, Oswald. I really don’t know what came over me.”  
Oswald paused. He could see the light blush dusting upon the apples of Edward’s cheeks, he could see the reddish bruising of Edward’s knuckles. Hell, he could hear the noises Edward had made still ringing in his ears. And as he stared up at his chief of staff, clad in green and turning red, one thing became incredibly apparent. Edward had enjoyed this entire endeavour just as much as he did but was too frightened of crossing boundaries, harming or forcing himself on Oswald to do anything about it, and as a result, Oswald would have to be the one to make the first move.  
What a terrifying thought, because unlike Edward, Oswald didn’t have an alter (or any fragments of an alter) to seek guidance from when everyday actions became too daunting. No, Oswald was about to do this alone; summoning up his courage and facing the fear of possible rejection head on. He had no way of knowing if his analysis of Ed had even been right, if perhaps it really was all a huge misunderstanding. One thing was for sure though, he wouldn’t know until he tried. The smaller man took a deep breath, gaze levelling up to match Ed’s. His heart pounded in his chest to the beat of a thousand racing horses. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this.  
“Ed?” He looked at him.  
Those big brown eyes could stop a man dead; and with the glow of the nearby fireplace within them, they were truly to die for.  
Oswald swallowed, “would you like to do that again? Please?”


End file.
